Chapter 4
“Everybody stays.”
Marco said it without raising his voice.
Hayes frowned.
“You know that note may be designed to provoke exactly this reaction.”
“Yes.”
“Then don't give it what it wants.”
Marco set the page down.
“I'm not.”
He looked around.
“Elena?”
His aunt's expression was offended.
“You cannot seriously think I arranged an ambush against my brother's son.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
“Luca?”
The security chief's face hardened.
“If I wanted you dead, I had easier opportunities.”
“Again. Not an answer.”
“No.”
Marco turned toward Sofia.
She looked frightened.
Not guilty.
But Marco had learned enough in forty-eight hours to distrust the comfort of appearances.
“Sofia.”
“No.”
She answered immediately.
“I didn't know you before I started working here.”
“When was that?”
“Seven months ago.”
“Who hired you?”
“Mrs. Halloran.”
Head housekeeper.
“Who referred you?”
Sofia hesitated.
“My aunt.”
“Name?”
“Marisol Vega.”
Elena's cup struck the saucer.
A tiny sound.
Everyone heard it.
Marco looked at her.
“You know that name.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Sofia stared.
“What?”
Elena looked at her.
“Your aunt worked for Anthony.”
Sofia went pale.
“No. She worked in a hotel.”
“Before that.”
“No.”
“Sofia,” Elena said gently, “your aunt was one of Anthony's bookkeepers.”
Sofia stepped backward.
Marco watched her world tilt.
She had entered his house believing she was ordinary staff.
Now even her presence might have been arranged.
“Did Claire know your aunt?”
“Yes,” Elena said.
Sofia shook her head.
“No.”
Marco turned toward Hayes.
“This is exactly what the note wanted.”
Hayes nodded.
“Everyone becomes suspicious.”
But Luca was thinking differently.
“Closest doesn't necessarily mean physically closest.”
Marco looked at him.
“What?”
“The person closest to you could mean family.”
Elena.
Or Vivian.
Or Dominic.
Or Luca himself after twelve years at Marco's side.
Marco rubbed his injured eye.
Pain flared.
Sofia noticed.
“You need the drops.”
Marco looked at her sharply.
She froze.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
He softened.
“You're right.”
She brought the medication.
Marco allowed her to place it on the table but administered it himself.
Trust had become a series of measurements.
He hated it.
Claire agreed to speak only with Hayes present.
Marco joined by video from the estate.
She sat in an interview room wearing an ordinary gray sweater.
No makeup.
No dramatic composure.
She looked exhausted.
“Did you arrange the ambush?” Marco asked.
“No.”
“Did my father?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what was his letter?”
“A contingency.”
“When was it written?”
“Three years ago.”
“Before he died.”
“Yes.”
“He predicted an ambush?”
“He predicted that after his death, the organization would fracture.”
“Convenient.”
“He knew his family.”
Marco almost smiled.
“So do I.”
Claire folded her hands.
“Not as well as you thought.”
That stung.
“Explain the cameras.”
“I placed two.”
“Which?”
“Study and Dominic's room.”
“Bedroom?”
“No.”
“Rehabilitation room?”
“No.”
“Dining room?”
“No.”
“The receiver?”
“No.”
“Closet contractor?”
“I authorized the vendor.”
“So yes.”
“I thought they were installing a secure network hub.”
Marco's expression hardened.
“You didn't inspect it?”
“No.”
“That doesn't sound like my father's analyst.”
Claire lowered her eyes.
“I made mistakes.”
“Who told you to install the study camera?”
“No one.”
“Why?”
“To see who entered while you were vulnerable.”
“That's surveillance without consent.”
“Yes.”
“Criminal.”
“Possibly.”
Hayes interjected.
“Definitely potentially criminal. Let's not soften that.”
Claire nodded.
Marco continued.
“And Dominic?”
“I suspected him.”
“Correctly.”
“Yes.”
“Why feed him fake footage?”
“To see whether he'd act on it.”
“You manufactured evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Of Carbone involvement.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted Dominic to reveal his ambition.”
“Yes.”
“Vivian?”
“I didn't know about the affair until later.”
“Did you tell Vivian to remove the rail?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her to say two steps?”
“No.”
“Did you know Sofia's aunt?”
Claire paused.
“Yes.”
“Did you place Sofia in my house?”
“No.”
“Sofia's aunt?”
“No.”
For the first time, Claire sounded genuinely surprised.
“Marisol wouldn't do that.”
Marco glanced toward Sofia.
She looked relieved and more confused at once.
“What did my father actually want from you?”
Claire looked into the camera.
“To dismantle the Bellini organization without causing a war.”
Silence.
“To move legitimate companies into independent ownership. To remove criminal exposure from younger family members. To create exit agreements.”
“And me?”
“He thought you were the only person strong enough to finish it.”
Marco laughed once.
“He never told me.”
“He was going to.”
“He died.”
“Yes.”
“So everyone protects me with secrets.”
Claire's face softened.
“He was your father.”
“That isn't an explanation.”
“No.”
Marco understood more than he wanted to.
Anthony had loved through control too.
He made plans around people instead of with them.
The same arrogance that had nearly destroyed so many lives.
“Why return as a wedding planner?”
“Vivian contacted my company.”
“Coincidence?”
“At first.”
“I don't believe in coincidences anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
Claire explained.
She had left Anthony's world after his death.
Started legitimate event work.
Vivian's wedding inquiry arrived through a planner network.
When Claire saw Marco's name, she took the job.
Not to harm him.
To observe.
“To decide whether I was worthy?”
“No.”
“To decide whether Anthony's plan was still possible.”
Marco stared.
“And?”
Claire's answer surprised him.
“Yes.”
“Even after this?”
“Especially after this.”
The break came from Sofia.
Not an investigator.
Not security.
Sofia.
She asked to call her aunt.
Marco allowed it with Hayes monitoring.
Marisol Vega answered from Queens.
Sofia spoke Spanish first.
Fast.
Emotional.
Then English.
“Aunt Marisol, did you know Claire Donati?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Did you send me to work here because of her?”
“No.”
“Because of Anthony Bellini?”
Long silence.
“Sofia, I sent you because Mrs. Halloran needed someone dependable.”
“Did you know who owned the house?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me you worked for his father?”
“Because that was another life.”
“Were you involved in the cameras?”
“No.”
“Do you know who ordered the ambush?”
Marisol said nothing.
Sofia's face changed.
“Auntie.”
Silence.
Then:
“I know who Anthony feared.”
Everyone in the room became still.
“Who?”
“His attorney.”
Marco looked at Hayes.
Elliot Vance.
Marisol continued.
“Anthony found money missing from several companies before he died.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“Vance?”
“He thought so.”
“Why not report it?”
“Because some of the money came from businesses that couldn't tolerate official scrutiny.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
Legacy crimes made clean solutions difficult.
“Did Vance know about Anthony's plan?”
“Yes.”
“Would dismantling the organization expose him?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Motive.
Not power.
Money.
More mundane.
More believable.
More dangerous.
Hayes immediately ordered Vance located.
His office was empty.
Home empty.
Phone off.
But Luca found something worse.
The fake closet contractor's incorporation documents were filed by Vance's office.
The shell company owning the delivery van traced indirectly to a trust Vance controlled.
And the wedding account?
Vance handled its escrow.
He had access to contractor payments.
He could hide devices among legitimate work.
Marco's face went cold.
“He was watching us all.”
Claire nodded.
“He may have discovered my surveillance and expanded it.”
“Using your system.”
“Yes.”
“Which means when you watched Dominic, Vance watched you watching Dominic.”
“Yes.”
The layers made Marco almost admire the architecture.
Almost.
Then Hayes received a call.
Vance had not fled.
He had gone to Marco's Manhattan office.
Alone.
He had asked to speak with him.
Marco stood.
“No.”
Hayes frowned.
“No what?”
“He didn't go there to surrender.”
“Then why?”
Marco looked at Claire through the screen.
She understood too.
“Anthony's files.”
The succession files were stored in an old private safe at the Manhattan office.
If Vance destroyed them, he could erase evidence of financial transfers and Anthony's restructuring.
Marco grabbed his coat.
Luca moved.
Hayes stopped them.
“You are not turning this into a shootout.”
Marco glared.
“I wasn't planning one.”
“Good.”
Hayes arranged police units.
Marco went anyway, legally, with counsel and security kept outside.
Sofia stayed at the estate.
At least, she was supposed to.
But as Marco reached the front doors, she approached.
“Mr. Bellini.”
“What?”
“There is something wrong with Mr. Vance going to the office.”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Why tell anyone he was there?”
Marco stopped.
A man destroying evidence would not announce himself.
Unless the office was bait.
“Hayes!”
Too late.
Luca's phone rang.
Office alarm.
Smoke detection.
Not fire.
Chemical suppression system activated in the records vault.
Someone wanted everyone focused on Manhattan.
Marco looked back toward the estate.
Then understood.
The files Vance truly wanted were not there.
They were here.
Anthony's private duplicate archive.
Hidden somewhere inside the Bellini house.
Elena's face changed when Marco turned toward her.
“You know where it is.”
She said nothing.
“Elena.”
“In the chapel.”
The estate's small private chapel.
Closed since Anthony's funeral.
Marco looked toward Luca.
Then remembered.
During the blackout, one person had been unaccounted for.
Not Vivian.
Not Dominic.
Not Claire.
The estate chaplain.
Father Gabriel.
May you like
A man who had served the Bellini family for twenty-eight years.
And who, according to Sofia, had quietly left the party just before the lights went out.
